The Most Dangerous Game
by TheWimpzilla
Summary: "I have a proposition for you, Luigi. A gentleman's challenge, if you will. Care to humor an old man's final wish?". It was these words that threw me into a world of terror and paranoia. Before I knew it, I was participating in the most dangerous game.
1. The Calm before the Storm

**Oh man, I can't tell you guys how long this little puppy has been percolating in the think tank, but here it is, a modern Mario adaption of the classic short story "The Most Dangerious Game". If you've seen my past works, then you should know by now plagarism is the single thing I detest most in this world, so this is going to be far from a strait rip off of the original. It's still the same premise, sure, but I've added a lot of new elements to the story I think you guys will enjoy.**

**So now, without further ado, "The Most Dangerous Game". **

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I didn't recognize the man standing in front of me, eyeing me up and down with his deep blue eyes scanning for the any miniscule flaw in my appearance, although I had known him all my life. Dressed in a dark black tuxedo accented with a green-dyed boutonnière, hair thoroughly combed and locked in place via an assortment of gels and hair sprays, my reflection flashed me an approving smile.

"I clean up pretty good." I commented to the full-length mirror that hung on the wall. My attire was admittedly not quite up to snuff as some of the outfits the other patrons of the cruise ship were wearing. I had outgrown my tuxedo more than I had anticipated when I packed it in my suitcase. It stretched tightly across my shoulder blades and the length of the coat only rested at my waistline, revealing my underbelly if my arms were raised above my head. However I was content with it, possibly by the sheer fact that I had no alternatives. I gave myself one final look, removing a single hair that had clung to my pant leg, before exiting the room and trekking down the hallway towards the stairs.

I emerged onto the main deck of the cruise ship, which had been transformed into a formal ball room by the crew members of the ship. I had only been in my room for a few hours, but in that time an enormous square of glossy tiles had been arranged, forming the dance floor, and several spot lights had been positioned to illuminate the area from high above. A full orchestra off on the port-side of the ship played music fit for slow pair-dancing. How appropriate it was then that the entire dance floor was populated by pairs of people, slowly circling around one another in slow, rhythmic motions. Not having a partner to accompany me for the dance, I positioned myself near a group of wall flowers observing the crowd of swirling people, holding light conversation with one another.

"Luigi," a tall, slender man eagerly greeted "so glad you could finally join us."

"Thanks." I answered, hesitating slightly to try and recall the gentleman's name. I could not, "Beautiful night."

"It certainly is." A broad-shouldered man responded. His chin was draped with a square fluff of hair, "Although it would certainly be nice if I could see the night sky." I absentmindedly tilted my head back only to feel my eyes burn from the intense light the high spotlights were giving off. A gave the broad-shouldered man a small nod before returning my gaze to the dance floor, watching the hypnotic movements of the dancers. The women's dresses swaying to and fro as quick motions came to a rest. The shuffling feet of the men, landing in perfect steps to the music. My watching gave me a distant feeling of voyeurism, as if I was looking through someone's window, watching their private lives. I quickly redirected my attention back to my fellow wallflowers.

"So has she been out on the floor yet?" I ask. The trio seems confused until a stocky man with a thinning hairline, whose name I recall is 'Patrick', recognizes who I'm talking about.

"Oh, you mean the woman of the hour." He says in a gruff voice, "No, she's been cooped up in her room all night. Probably putting the finishing touches on her dress." He adds.

"I would expect the birthday girl to wear something extravagant." The slender man chimes in, "Especially someone of her status." The others nod their heads in agreement. Patrick excuses himself to refill his cup at the punch bowl.

And then as if on cue she emerges, wrapped in a classic but elegant formal dress that hovers millimeters off the floor, giving the illusion she is gliding effortlessly across the dance floor. Like Moses parting the sea, she journeys towards the center of the dance floor as the dancers take note of the glimmering silk that radiates her natural glow and step back in both respect and awe. I can see a burning jealousy in some of the women's eyes, as if they were trying to ignite her dress by sheer will power. The men simply gawk.

Now at center stage, all eyes focused on her, she waits patiently for the orchestra to finish their piece. With a flourish they quickly end, allowing total silence on the deck. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her to speak. Another moment of serenity passes before her voice pierces the placid atmosphere.

"First off, is everybody having a good time?" Daisy yells. Her query is responded with thunderous applause and cheering, "Great! Hey, thanks for coming out to my birthday party everyone! You've been awesome, so give yourselves another round of applause." Again, more thunderous clapping ensues. She goes on to speak about why she decided to hold her birthday party on her cruise ship, and tells a story about it's history, but my mind is too engrossed in another matter for her words to hold any significance. I feel my heart pound rapidly against my rib cage, possibly tapping out a message in morse code about not doing it, to abort the mission, forget the plan and just enjoy the evening. But my mind is already set. Tonight is the night she finally knows the truth. Every muscle in my body tenses and I let out a small yelp when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey Luigi!" Daisy chimes. I hadn't realized she was finished. I can tell she's stifling a laugh brought on by my reaction, "I'm so glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world." I reply coolly as if I hadn't just feel my heart skip a few beats. The band resumes playing and before I know what's happening Daisy is dragging me to the center of the dance floor by my wrist.

"Come on, let's dance." She demands. I comply while trying to walk upright, but she is pulling me faster than my feet can manage. She can't be wearing high heels, but I suppose with the dress as low as it is, it would've been a pointless addition. Why wear proper shoes if no one's going to see them? I wish I had the same option as my flat-bottomed dress shoes scamper and slide across the waxed floor.

Fortunately Daisy has decided on a location before I completely lose my balance, which brings great relief to me. A chipped tooth certainly wouldn't have helped my confidence while telling her my most heavily guarded secret. The reason I came out to the dance floor so late wasn't because I needed time to prepare my suit, but because I kept going back and forth on whether to go through with telling her. I must have debated it in my mind a million times since I first received my invitation.

I place my left hand just above her waist, and clasp her free hand in my right. Somehow I can't help feeling like I did back in my high school years. I was a nervous wreck back then. Well, more so than now anyways, and just the thought of putting my hands anywhere on a girl made me sweat gallons. I push the thought as far back in my mind as I can, but I decide to keep Daisy at a full arm's length just to be sure I'm not invading any sort of personal space.

"So is Mario here?" Daisy asks over the music. It takes me a short moment to process the question since I'm focusing on where I'm stepping. I got the slow dance pat down at home thanks to some practice with my very reluctant brother after getting the invitation, but the subtle rocking of the cruise ship was adding an unexpected challenge.

"No, he had a prior engagement." I answer, which was a total lie. Likely right now Mario's staring blankly at his new flat screen television. He begged me for years to get one, but I just saw it as an unnecessary expense seeing as we had an older but reliable television. Finally I just couldn't stand his whining anymore so I caved, and of course he gets the biggest, most expensive one in store. Maybe if he had to balance the check book once in a while he'd realize he can't throw money at every single luxury, but I digress. The reason he's staying at home is because he gave me the idea to tell Daisy about my feelings in the first place. I said I'd do it only if he stayed home, because the last thing I needed was my brother acting as cheer squad on the ship. Besides, if I was going to do it, I needed to do it alone. This was a matter between me and her, no one else.

I don't immediately spring into action of course. I just dance with Daisy for a few minutes, enjoying the rare one-on-one time I get to spend with her. Every time he make eye contact she gives me a smile, and I can't help but smile back. I hate the word 'perfect', it's just about the most bland and over-emphasized words in the English language, but I can't think of any other way to describe her. To describe this moment in time. I want to live here forever, and for a while I'm convinced that this wonderful feeling will never pass. However that fantasy shatters on the harsh floor of reality when I feel a quick two-tap on my left shoulder.

For a split second I think it's a woman behind me, but I quickly realize that it's simply Prince Peasley, dressed in his usual attire that looks as though it were lifted from a backstage theatre room. His face is plastered with a quietly obnoxious smirk and his eyes are closed, as if to say he has to shield his beautiful eyes from the mere sight of me. Arrogance permeates every pore in his body.

"Luigi, my graciously gregarious gentleman," He recites, pulling out a small hand mirror and admiring his golden hair, "How great it is the stars have crossed our paths yet again."

"Yeah, great." I humor him, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Indubitably." He answers, putting the mirror away and smiling at me. His teeth reflect the spotlights above directly into my eye, temporarily blinding me. The chemicals he must use to achieve that gleam on his teeth must have easily shaved a few decades off his life expectancy, "I was hoping you would grant me a dance with the fair maiden of the night."

"Go for it." I answer, rubbing my eyelids across my scarred cornea. I step to the side and allow him to step in for me. Once my vision has returned I see the two royal figures dancing a far more elaborate dance than Daisy and I were. Fearing a quickly spinning Peasley may result in my injury, I step off to the side and position myself next to the orchestra. Their loud music drowns out their conversation, leaving my weak attempts at lip-reading to fail me immensely. After a few minutes I decide that Peasley has had his fill dancing with Daisy, and that it was time for me to step in and finish what I came here to do. Before I can take a step towards them however I see Peasley looking at the orchestra, making a quick cutting motion across his throat. The band quickly ceases, bringing on a short bout of confusion on the dance floor. However a sharp pitched whistle quickly directs their attention at Daisy and Peasley. Daisy seems somewhat confused.

"If I may ask for your attention please." Peasley sings out, "I would like to thank our lovely birthday girl, Daisy, for hosting this wonderful Gala in her ship. I've been getting to know her for some time over the past year, and I must say she is simply one in a million. There is no princess like her, past, present, or even the future if I may say so. That is why tonight I ask her this with all the hope in the world that she says yes." Peasley lowers himself onto one knee. "Will you marry me?"

Peasley produces a large diamond ring from his back pocket. There is a moment of silence as I see a range of emotions overcame Daisy. I can't make out what she's thinking, she is just as stunned as every person on the deck. Possibly more stunned than me even. If I couldn't hear the crash of the waves below the ship I would have thought time stood still. Everyone stared watching, not daring to move a muscle, lest they miss her answer. The only thing that assures me that my heart is still beating is the fact I can feel it against my rib cage again. Suddenly, the most terrible, horrible sound that I have ever heard, and am convinced will ever hear, breaks the silence.

"Yes." She whispers, just loud enough for those in the nearest vicinity to hear. I see the ripple of reaction burst trough the crowd, and women scream and bounce, men cheering and hollering, churning the air with their fore arms as they get caught up in the excitement. I can't stand to watch as everyone celebrates the very thing that makes me question the existence of god. As quickly as my feet can carry me in this constricting suit, I run. I don't have a destination in mind, I just want to outrun the pain I feel welling up inside of me. Eventually I'm forced to stop once I realize I'm short of breath. As I wheeze the cold air that stings my throat with every breath, I take note of the sequined sky glittering above me. In the darkness and complete solitude I finally find the peace I've been searching for. For a long while, I simply enjoy the view with the company of myself, as I've been doing for all my life. With the music and the cheering far behind me, I mentally locate myself to be at the very far back end of the cruise ship.

Arms draped across the railing of the back of the ship, head nestled in the small gap between my folded forearms, I stare intently at the void betwixt the two seas of water and stars, allowing my mind to wander and search for some satisfactory answer as what to do now. I consider bottling my emotions for the remainder of my years, but another part of me insists on telling her the truth, now that I have nothing to lose. My mind briefly ponders a more violent approach of eliminating the problem, namely Peasley. I find a sick satisfaction in planning out his demise before reminding myself that such action would probably worsen my prospects with Daisy. Still, the thought leaves my lips pursed in a wicked smirk. I sense a someone next to me, and find myself surprised to see the very person that has been occupying my thoughts standing before me.

"What are you smiling about?" Daisy asks as she rests her elbows on the railing separating us from a long fall to the ocean.

"Nothing." I answer with more enthusiasm than I had intended.

"Well I've been looking all over for you." Daisy says, "Ever since our dance it seems like you've disappeared."

Oh, would that I could, Daisy. "Nah, I just needed some fresh air away from the crowd. I guess I just got caught up in the view." I add, inventing a second excuse when I see the first doesn't have her fully convinced.

"Well were you there for the big surprise?" She asks, reflecting the stars' light off of her new diamond ring towards me. I've never felt more disgust for a stone in my life.

"I was, I'm very happy for you!" I say in the most sincere tone I can manage. She gives me a warm smile that makes my stomach feel like it's been filled with cement. Figures, here I am feeling miserable and unlikely to feel joy again, and I'm concerned about making the bride-to-be happier than she already is. The irony is so strong I can taste it. It's bitter and salty, although the latter may be because we're standing near the ocean.

She turns her gaze towards the endless body of water, and I take my cue to do the same. A long moment of silence in suspended between us until she asks, "So what's really on your mind?"

The question has my mind taken aback. I should have known better than to try and hide the truth. We've known each other so long we can read one another like a book. Suddenly we lock eyes, and I can see in her eyes what she sees in mine. Fear, hesitation, yearning. I inhale deeply and take a few steps away from the railing as a means of distancing myself from the situation. If it has to be done literally, so be it.

"_This is it_", I tell myself. "_This is your big opportunity, your last chance. If you don't tell her you now you never will. You can't go on living with this weight on your chest, it's time to release the truth. After all, they say the truth will set you free, right?_"

I have little faith in those words.

I turn and look her directly in the eye and inhale once more. It's a slow, determined inhale that gives me those few extra seconds I need to build up my nerve. I breathe in until my lungs are filled to bursting, and then say the words I've branded into the forefront of my mind just a few hours ago in my room. "I-"

And that's all I can get out before Patrick's wailing cry overpowers my speech.

"**Icebeeeeeeeeeerg!"** Patrick shrieks. Of course by the time I have figured out the meaning of this one-word exclamation, the ship has been brought to a bone-rattling halt. My body had anticipated the sudden forward momentum, and adjusted accordingly by leaning back at an extreme angle. What was not anticipated however was the ship lurching backward after the impact. The combination of my leaning back and the sudden change in momentum sent me hurtling backwards towards the railing, feet dangling mere inches from the ground. I collided with the railing on the small of my back, sending a sharp pain through my spine. Because of the speed I was traveling and the location of where I hit the rail, my body flipped over the railing and sent me tumbling into the murky waters below. The last thing I heard before being shrouded in a world of darkness was Daisy shouting my name.

The impact with the surface of the water knocks the wind out of my lungs. The only reason I didn't immediately die from the harsh impact was because of the cruise ship's propellers churning the water before the wreck, breaking the surface tension. Although the night air was cold, it was no where near the bone-chilling temperature of the water. I could feel my core slowly losing heat as I continued to tumble in the water at an unknown depth. My deflated lungs ached and demanded air. Every inch of me knew there was no air, that breathing meant certain death, but the pain overwhelmed me. Before I could stop myself I sucked the ocean water into my lungs. The water's cold now permeated from within me, robbing me of all my remaining heat.

I began to panic. The stinging cold and absolute lack of any oxygen in my system, I could feel myself slowly dying. I forced my eyes open, powering through the intense sting of the salty water. However I found my eyes to be of little use anyways, I could see nothing but darkness. The cold, unforgiving darkness of death. In spite of the fact that I could feel death fast approaching my arms quickly began paddling in the direction I assumed was up. In my peripheral vision I saw an even darker blackness slowly creeping towards the center of my vision. It was pitch black, and I immediately identified that it was death slowly claiming me. My body was weak, my lungs were convulsing, rapidly breathing the ocean water in and out in hopes that the next breath contained air. I had tunnel vision, but my arms kept paddling in what they must have known was a vein attempt to reach the surface.

Without warning a shock wave rippled through the water, pushing me back down into the ocean depths. I could clearly see the surface now, and all hope reaching it was lost. As I sunk further into water, before the darkness completely blacked out my vision, I watched as the oil slowly creeping out from the hull of the ship ignited, sending the surface ablaze.

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**=O**


	2. A Rude Awakening

**Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews, questions, and excitement for this story. I understand there are a few things you guys want answered, and I assure you all will be explained later, but for now enjoy the second chapter of The Most Dangerous Game.**

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Warmth. I am stirred from my sleep, brought to a world of consciousness by this pleasing sensation on my clammy skin.

Light. Sun. It must be midday. My eyes flutter open to confirm my suspicions. Because my eyesight is level to the ground it takes a few seconds before I can deduce where I am.

Sand. Beach. Island. I'm on some sort of tropical island situated in front of a vast, empty ocean. I inhale, searching for new information.

Gurgling. Rippling. Water. In the same millisecond that I've come to realize my air passage is still waterlogged, my body is forcibly removing the unwanted salty liquid stirring in my lungs out through my mouth and nostrils. I force my self onto all fours to get the water out more efficiently. After a few harrowing expulsions I take my first gulp of air. Wonderful, oxygen filled air. My lungs savor my gift before continuing the deed of removing the unwelcome ocean waters still residing within.

For a few minutes I switch between hacking up salt and seaweed flavored waters and breathing in salt and mildew flavored air before the physical demand of heaving takes its toll and I'm forced back onto my back for a rest. Flinging my right arm across my eyes to block out the sun's irritating rays I focus on the task of breathing through my nose that aches and stings with every breath thanks to the water that was forced through it. I still feel a miniscule pool of water at the base of my lungs, rippling with every breath, and decide that trying to expel what insignificant water remains would be a wasted and fruitless effort.

With no immediate danger to worry about my mind works to piece together the events that have led up to this situation with me in a ragged suit, throwing up sea water onto a white-sand beach. It begins with the last thing I can recall, looking up at a wall of fire overhead as death slowly claims me. Then I see myself slamming into and flying over a hand rail, then Daisy is waiting for my answer to a question I can't recall, then I'm running away from a crowd, and then I see it. The ring, Peasley on one knee, a flabbergasted Daisy. My stomach churns at the scene and I make haste to redirect my thoughts.

"So, I'm on a deserted island in a destroyed suit with no indication where in the world I am or what I'm going to do now." I say out loud to the benefit of my ears that have not a thing to hear but the crashing of waves since I've awoken, "I guess things can only go up from here".

A thought of optimism flashes across my mind as I realize with the cruise ship likely destroyed they will send out a rescue party soon. And with helicopters or boats whizzing by certainly I could gain the attention of someone. However my pessimistic side is quick to emerge, pointing out that they won't notice a missing cruise ship until the day it was suppose to dock, and that I had absolutely know idea when that was suppose to be. Also there wasn't any evidence that the island I've drifted upon was anywhere near the ship. This beach could be miles out of the way of any rescue team's route to the ship. And of course all the previous assumptions were banking on the idea that there was even a cruise ship and passengers left to save.

That was not a thought I could allow myself to humor. I needed a physical task to distract myself from any further horrifying ideas. Luckily my earlier upset stomach was eager to suggest a search for food with a long, low growl. I accepted the request and was soon on my feet, looking around my immediate area for food. With nothing but sand, rocks, and bare palm trees around me the task of food finding became immediately more difficult than I had anticipated, but I would not be one to give up quickly and resumed my voyage for food, walking the borderline of palm trees jutting out from the tropic jungle in hopes of finding a coconut bearing tree. After about an hour of mindless wandering and with the sun hanging just above the horizon my eye finally spots the green fruit hanging from the branches of a tall palm tree. I quickly scamper up the bark, no doubt tearing the weakened fabric of my dress slacks in the process, and nab myself one of the fat, luscious coconuts from the trio dangling from the branches. The journey up was a relatively simple task for me because of the combined need for sustenance and easy object to keep my focus on. However the trip back down quickly became a more difficult manner as I take note of how high up the tree I am. The fall could easily crack a few bones, if I didn't die on impact. Perhaps the drop I was perceiving was embellished by my crippling fear of heights. To test the reality of my situation I lobbed the coconut from my position at the top of the tree to the ground. My eyes follow the spinning coconut where it lands with a soft thud in the mixture of sand and dirt a few feet from the base of the tree. It does little to ease my nerves, but at the very least I understand a slip-up won't be fatal to me. So step by carefully-placed step I slowly lower my self inch by inch down the trunk of the tree until I am a simple 3-foot hop from the ground. I take the leap to get the task over with sooner and quickly scramble to pick up my well earned coconut. Locating a large pointed rock jutting up from the ground, I hold the coconut above my head with both hands before slamming it against the rock's sharpest point, instantly shattering the coconut and spraying all of it's juices. I frown at the wasted liquid splattered against the rock and sand, but with my throat already soaked with sea water I hardly have a thirst to quench.

I sit down and begin clawing at the coconut's soft, white-yellow insides and scoop the food into my mouth. I watch the sun slowly sink further into the ocean as I consume my dinner, finishing off the coconut as the waning twilight approaches. To keep warm during the night I dig a long, shallow hole in the sand far away from the ocean, considering I don't know if it's high or low tide, lay down in it, and shovel sand back onto myself starting at the feet and continuing up to my torso. When I finish rest my head and stare up towards the star-studded silky blackness. I'm greeted by the same night sky as the night I was thrown overboard. It shouldn't be calming as it is, but it's intricate design of sparkling lights lulls me into slumber regardless.

I dream of salty coconuts and helicopters made of sand.

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**This one's a bit short as far as chapters go, I had meant to get it finished sooner but things have been really busy for me as of late. A bit understandable since I've just completed a major milestone in my life, but I'll do my best to get the next one up faster. Things are going to really start picking up after this. Ciao for now.**


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